


Scarlet Beauty

by literaryempress



Series: My Ask Box Corner [13]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair, Hair Dyeing, Husbands, Insecure Mickey, Love, M/M, Married Couple, Memories, Minor Character Death, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Self-Esteem Issues, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: Original prompt: Hello did you know that Noel's natural hair coulor is actually also ginger? I read this the other day and was like "Oh my god really?". Prompt: Mickey always dyes his hair black. However, he is too busy and forgets to do this in a while. So, Ian is shocked to see reddish strands on the top of Mickey's head. Then, he forbids him to dye his hair again because he thinks this makes them the cutest couple. Finally, everyone sees Mickey thinks he make himself a ginger to match his boyfriend and laughsThe more stressed out Mickey gets about work, the less time he devotes to adding more black hair dye to his hair. Ian eventually notices the change in Mickey's hair color and confronts him about it.





	

Mickey’s completely tired today, as much of an exaggeration as that sounds.

He hates some of his co-workers with a burning passion. Some of them weren’t willing to cooperate with him or the other employees whenever tasks had to be carried out. Jonathan and William were always arguing over who should do what, or which idea was better. Mickey was completely annoyed by it.

Then there were folks like Susan and Victor who didn’t carry their weight. They’ll provide something to some capacity, but for the most part, they were completely lazy. Mickey didn’t do lazy; he’s on top of his own work 24/7, and he can’t work with people who aren’t on the same page as him, which is why he doesn’t understand why his boss placed him in the advertising department of Bucky’s Burgers in the first place.

Good thing he’s done with them for the day, but sometimes, he just wants to be really done with them. Mickey had been meaning to look into a different place to offer his services - really any job would work, at this point; it doesn’t even have to be a popular, fast-food place like Bucky’s, as long as it meets all of Mickey’s requirements - but he had been too busy to do so lately. Everyone was wearing him the fuck out.

Even Ian, who had been completely whipped about him lately. Mickey didn’t know how to describe it. It’s not like there’s something wrong with Ian or anything - Mickey didn’t mind having more sex lately, since his own job is a pain in the ass - but why was Ian in such a horny mood lately? What was it about him that needed to fuck every other day?

Mickey came back to the house around six o’clock in the evening, his tie already loose around his neck and one button near his chest already unbuttoned. The smell of lasagna and mashed potatoes greeted him as he opened the front door and stepped inside the house. Ian was in the kitchen in that ugly gray and blue apron Mickey didn’t like, stirring up the mashed potatoes a little bit more before checking on the sweet potatoes in the other pot. Everything smelled perfect, relaxing. That’s what Mickey needed right now: to just relax in his own home in the comfort of his husband’s presence.

“Long day?” Ian asked, turning his head in Mickey’s direction as he bent down and checked on the lasagna in the stove.

“You have no fuckin’ idea,” Mickey replied as he kicked his shoes off and tugged the tie off his neck, tossing it on the couch somewhere. “Ass hats at work are getting on my nerves.”

“Why?”

“They’ve been getting on my fucking nerves since I started here two months ago,” Mickey stated, walking towards the kitchen and leaning against the island. “Victor is so fuckin’ useless sometimes - no scratch that; all the fucking time. He came to me - _me_ , of all people - and told me that the printer wasn’t working, because the boss needed copies of a proposal due at five-thirty?” Ian hummed, grabbing some oven mitts and opening the stove door. “So I walked all the way to the goddamn printing room to do his job for him, since he can’t do shit for himself, and you wanna know the dumbest thing that happened?”

“What?”

“It had been working the whole fuckin’ time, but he never checked the inside for any paper jams. Like, Victor’s been working here longer than me, but he doesn’t know how to operate a damn computer.”

“Only a few weeks longer than you.”

“Still, I’m not his fuckin’ mother or nothin’, Ian. I’m tired of doing other people’s shit. And then William had the fuckin’ nerve to ask me whether or not I would be able to stay later so he could go home and feed his dog since no one’s there to watch home, like preparing for the presentation on Tuesday isn’t more important than putting a bowl of kibble on your kitchen floor.” Mickey sighed for a moment, allowing his anger to simmer down a bit, and then added, “I don’t know, man. I just want to leave already.”

Mickey ran a tired hand through his hair. He really thought he would love his job when he first started working there. The truth is, Mickey did love it. Instead of working in the actual restaurant, however, he got to work in a big building with a bunch of other important people, which was an upgrade from him working at a deli eight months prior. Plus, he wouldn’t have to worry about rushing around the room just to get everyone fed or trying to prepare all of the meats and the vegetables before they actually get served to the public.

However, Mickey also expected for the people on the business side of Bucky’s Burgers to be more on top of their work. In reality, everyone’s willing to clock out early for the most irrelevant reasons, like going to the doctor to find out whether or not you have the chickenpox or a rash on your arm, and some of the employees working there act as though they don’t even know how to do their own jobs. It’s no wonder Mr. Walton, the president of the company, had been talking about laying off a bunch of people this year.

Once the lasagna was carefully placed on the counter next to the stove, Ian closed the stove door and turned back around to face his exhausted husband across from him. He understands how much Mickey wants to provide for the two of them. He gets it. At the same time, he also doesn’t want Mickey to give up on his goals just because a couple of people at work are giving him a hard time. That’s not the Mickey Milkovich Ian had been rooting for. The Mickey Milkovich had been rooting for didn’t take shit from anybody. He didn’t care what anybody thought or expected from him. All that mattered was what Mickey was up to, and Ian really wants him to stay in that mindset.

“I wouldn’t give up on Bucky’s just yet,” Ian finally spoke.

“Ian -”

“It’s great money, Mick. Hell, it’s ten times better than the last job you worked at,” Ian reminded him. When he noticed that Mickey’s head sunk a little, Ian took a step or two closer to Mickey, placing his hands on Mickey’s biceps. “Just give it another week or so, and if you still don’t like it, we can look into something else for you, and then you can quit Bucky’s. Sound good?”

Mickey usually wasn’t the one to give things another chance. Once one job managed to fuck him over, it was on to the next one without looking back. Ian was right about this job getting them a lot of money, though. In fact, Mickey’s paycheck was about twice as much as Ian’s, the latter who worked at a nearby Best Buy as a cashier. If Mickey just stopped working there, sure, he could get another job, but will it necessarily be just as good as this one, if not better?

Ian massaged Mickey’s arms a little bit as he waited for an answer, relieving him of the tension mixed in his muscles somewhere. Finally, Mickey reluctantly caved in. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, asshole.” Ian smiled and leaned down to place a gentle kiss against Mickey’s plump lips before bringing the shorter man in for a comforting hug. Ian’s been helping Mickey with trust lately, and Mickey really appreciates the sentiment. At the same time, Ian cares about whatever Mickey wants, and if Mickey really wants to leave this job, even after the week or two Ian suggested, then who was Ian to say no to that?

They stayed like that for about a couple of minutes. The food was still hot behind them, but Ian wanted to make sure Mickey was as relaxed as he could possibly be. Ian’s hand roamed Mickey’s back, making circles on the muscles so he could get more of the tension out. As Ian did so, his eyes fell upon the strands of Mickey’s hair, taking note of some of them looking to be a lighter color than the others. Actually, there were a lot of strands that weren’t black on Mickey’s hair, but they weren’t gray, either. They were... _reddish_ , just about.

The truth is, Ian had been noticing a difference in Mickey’s hair for the past couple of days. Ian’s always seen Mickey’s black hair and assumed that was his biological hair color. However, within the past couple of days when Mickey had been under pressure at work, Ian noticed that his hair didn’t look the same, and Ian tried to figure out why that is. Had he been trying some new shampoo? Did he want to dye his hair red? Were those Ian’s hairs coming out and falling into Mickey’s hair?

Okay, the latter couldn’t be possible, but the other two might. Either way, Ian felt the need to ask him about it.

“Mick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“The fuck is it, Gallagher?”

“Did you put some hair dye in your hair?”

Mickey froze in Ian’s arms. He’s never told anyone about the truth about his hair, and knowing that Ian was onto him made him feel a little nervous. It’s not that Mickey didn’t love his original hair color, because he does, though he also feels as though it looks better on Ian than it does on himself.

But it was also the same hair color his mom used to have. Mickey missed those days where he just sat on his Mama’s lap and reached for her long, black hair, playing with the strands a bit before he got bored and fell asleep. At one point before she died, Mickey’s mom had agreed to dye his hair black and even teach him how to recolor the strands of his hair, in the event that the ginger hair color would show after weeks or so of not adding more dye into it. Ever since that day, Mickey had always dyed his hair, but he did it whenever other people weren’t watching him do it. The only other person other than Mama who knew before now was Mandy, who was born with dirty blonde hair instead of black, and she even agreed to keep Mickey’s secret all this time, knowing that it would make her brother happy knowing that he got to keep a special reminder of his mother to himself.

Years later, and now Ian’s asking questions about it - in the one moment Mickey least expected it.

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Ian -”

“Holy shit, Mick. You never told me you used hair dye,” Ian responded, amused.

“Don’t tell a fucking soul about this, Ian. I mean it.”

Ian suddenly frowned a little out of concern. “Why? What’s so secretive about it? I wanna know.”

Mickey sighed, scratching the back of his own neck as he looked down at the tiling on the floor. After a moment, he glanced back up at Ian and said, “I don’t want to talk about it now, alright? Like, can we...I don’t know. Can we talk about it after dinner?”

Ian nodded. From the sudden change in Mickey’s demeanor, he could tell the story behind it was a little heavy and that Mickey wasn’t in the mood to ruining their dinner just by talking about it. So Ian decided to give him his space. He decided to leave Mickey with his own thoughts as the two of them ate dinner at the dinner table, and once Mickey’s ready to speak, Ian will be there to listen.

* * *

“My mom helped me dye it.”

“Your mom?”

Mickey nodded slowly as he rested his head against Ian’s chest. Ian’s eyes had glanced from Mickey’s eyes to the red strands in his hair and back. He could feel Mickey hugging Ian closer, if that was remotely possible, being that the two of them were already close enough. Ian could tell that Mickey was feeling a little uncomfortable with the given topic, and he wasn’t sure if he was making it any better, but Ian decided to bring one of his hands up to Mickey’s head, massaging his scalp a little bit to calm him down.

Mickey gulped as he felt Ian’s hand on top of his head. The gesture, to him, was quite nice. He loved it when Ian got this affectionate. However, his mind was stuck on the memory of his mother. He missed her - more than missed her, even. She died when Mickey was in high school, and every time Mickey looked back on the day he and his brothers found her in the bathtub by herself, her skin cold, wet and having a blue-ish tint, he could feel himself having some sort of panic attack.

Ian left his right hand on top of Mickey’s head and used the other one to softly rub circles all over Mickey’s torso. That gave Mickey a little confidence to continue on with the story. “I had asked her one time if she could dye my hair like hers...and she said yes.”

Ian nodded, continuing to rub Mickey wherever he can. “Why did you want to do it?”

“Back then, I didn’t like the color of my hair. The color didn’t fuckin’ look right.” Ian nodded again. “So I asked Mama to color it black when I was about...fuck, ten or eleven? Or something?” Mickey shrugged a bit, his fingers dancing on top of Ian’s chest. “I don’t know, but...ever since then, I’ve never changed it back to red.” He paused. “Not even after...after…”

Ian didn’t need for Mickey to explain himself. He got it. Ian’s listened to the couple of times Mickey talked about his mother. Ian understood how it all went down, and he was very well aware that Mickey liked to handle the conversation at his own pace, especially with hard it hit home for him. Ian never met the woman before, but judging by the description of her from Mickey, Ian could tell she was a very sweet mother and a sweet lady in general.

With a small squeeze of his arm around Mickey’s body, Ian finally broke the small silence. “It’s okay, Mick,” he whispered. “I get it.” Mickey felt himself release a breath of air he didn’t realize he had been holding in the whole time. This time, he snuggled a little closer to Ian’s body and loosened his hold onto Ian a little bit, no longer feeling the need to be nervous around Ian.

“Can I be honest with you, though?” Ian asked, and Mickey took a chance and glanced up at his husband, wondering what the next words out of his mouth would be. “I don’t think you would look bad with your red hair.”

“I look like a goddamn tomato, Ian.”

“You’re _my_ goddamn tomato, okay?” Mickey groaned a bit as he rolled his eyes. “I’m the only one who gets to eat you, remember?”

And then a couple of giggles left Mickey’s lips. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“Yeah, I’m _your_ fucking dick.” Ian responded, and then the two of them laughed the tension out of their bodies. The atmosphere between the two of them was a lot lighter than before, which they both highly appreciated.

“Jesus, Ian, stop.” But Mickey’s laughs contradicted with his pleas.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you fucking piece of shit,” Mickey answered, trying to get his own laughter down some.

Once the both of them had finally got their laughs out of the way, Ian got back to the point. “But seriously, I think you would look beautiful with red hair.”

“No, Ian.”

“I didn’t even ask you anything.”

“You’re implying that you want me to be a fuckin’ redhead for the rest of my life, and the answer is no.”

“I never implied the rest of your life, though,” Ian corrected him. “Just about a couple of days - maybe a week -”

“I’ll look fuckin’ ridiculous, Ian.”

“No, you won’t. I’m telling you this as your husband, your lover, your best friend, and the rightful co-owner of the best ass in Chicago.” Mickey laughed again, because in all honesty, while he was lucky to have Ian Gallagher as his husband, he can also be a horn dog when it came to Mickey’s ass. Mickey himself never really gave a shit about it, but whenever Ian had the opportunity, he would worship the hell out of Mickey’s ass, like he had seen Jesus Christ himself right through it. “Seriously, Mickey. I love you, no matter what you look like. Just try it for a day or two, and you can decide on what you wanna do.”

Mickey sighed as his eyes fell upon his own hands on Ian’s chest, the chest hairs tickling the skin on his palm. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to have ginger hair for anything long-term. He loved his black hair. It seemed to fit him more than the red hair did, in his opinion. Black fit with his personality, which was another reason why Mickey decided to keep his hair black.

However, there were occasional instances where Mickey wondered what would have happened if he just kept his ginger hair out. What would he look like to the public, standing by Ian as they walked side by side? He doubted that people would think they’re actually a couple, which would be quite ridiculous to him. He and Ian are more in love with each other than anything in the world. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to actually test that experiment, would it?

“Fine,” Mickey agreed, “but I’m not telling you when I’m doing it.”

“Mick -”

“Nope. You gotta wait for when I’m ready. That’s the deal.”

And Ian waited for as long as he could. He didn’t pressure Mickey about the topic within the next couple of days to about a week. At the week and a half mark, Mickey went to bed right next to his husband, with the inner declaration being made as he drifted off to sleep: tomorrow morning, once Ian is gone, Mickey will take the black dye out of his hair and go natural.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Ian spoke, mainly to himself, as he walked inside Mickey’s building, spotting a familiar redhead sitting at his desk. He knew that Mickey’s original hair color was red, but he didn’t know the color was that bright. It appeared to be strawberry blond-ish red, according to Ian; either way, it was a lot lighter than Ian’s own hair.

Still, though, Mickey looked good. More than good - excellent. Ian couldn’t get over it.

“Top of the afternoon, Red,” Mickey teased, a smirk appearing on his face as Ian walked closer to him.

“Mickey…” Ian spoke, his eyes stuck on the bright red strands. “Shit, Mick, your - holy fuck…”

Mickey giggled, feeling a little shy about Ian’s terms of endearment. “Is that all you got in your vocabulary, Ian.”

“Fuck you,” Ian replied with not much bite. “You’ve been doing it since you were a kid.”

“You only started to know me at seventeen, Gallagher. Try again.” The two started to laugh a little, and Mickey was getting out of his seat with his belongings as one of his co-workers, Jonathan, came walking over to Mickey’s work space.

“Are you guys supposed to be twins?” he asked, looking between Ian and Mickey with a chuckle leaving his lips.

“Nope,” Ian replied, wrapping his arm around Mickey. “Husbands - one of us a little new and improved -”

“The fuck you mean, _new and improved_?”

“Yeah, Mick,” Susan responded, walking over with a bunch of file folders in her hands. “Is the new line of Cabbage Patch Kids coming out soon?”

“Hey,” Ian told Susan. “My husband’s not a goddamn rag doll. Besides, I’m the only one who gets to have him.” Mickey smirked a little more, knowing that his boyfriend got his back and was willing to help defend his honor, even if it meant that he got to brag about Mickey’s new hair color - even if it wasn’t really knew to Mickey anyway.

“Ugh, get a room,” Jonathan replied as he and Susan walked away.

“Fuck you, too, Matthews,” Mickey replied, flipping him the bird before he and Ian started to walk out of the building. As they got to the car, Ian let Mickey go and rounded the car to the driver’s seat. The two of them opened the two front doors and sat down in their seats before they closed the doors again. “Thanks for that back there, man.”

“You’re my husband,” Ian replied. “I would do anything for you. I told you this a hundred times.”

“Now that we look like Thing One and Thing Two but with red fucking heads, you would do anything for me?”

“I’ve always wanted to do anything for you,” Ian answered. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, sure, Raggedy Anne.”

“Name one time I said I wouldn’t do something for you.” The car was quiet as Mickey went deep in his own thoughts. After a couple more seconds, a smirk grew on Ian’s face as he replied with, “Exactly. You can’t think of any.”

“Alright, fuck you, man.” Mickey told him, and the two of them started to laugh a bit.

The two of them buckled their seat belts and started getting ready to drive off. Before they did, though, Ian broke the silence again. “I’m banning your hair dye from now on.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You heard me. In an attempt to get you to love yourself more than you already do, I want you to put away your black hair dye.”

“No fucking way, Gallagher.”

“Gallagher-Milkovich,” Ian clarified, “and I didn't do anything to it yet, because I had somewhat of an idea of how you would react.”

“Ian, I swear to God, if my hair dye is gone when we get home -”

“It’s not,” Ian replied. “It’s in the cabinet somewhere where you left it.” Mickey started to relax a little bit, though he was still a little shook by Ian’s declaration. Ian turned on the ignition and started to drive them out of the parking lot. Once they were on the road, Ian continued to speak. “But still, I want you to love yourself as much as I love you, okay? You can put the stuff back in eventually, but for right now, I’m getting used to this.”

Mickey huffed. “You sure damn are.”

“And hey,” Ian continued, “the people at your potential new job will already know what your real hair color is, so there won’t be as much pressure.” Mickey didn’t think about that. He had been looking into several jobs in downtown Chicago lately, and the only good ones he could find were for journalism-related companies. He still has a lot of paperwork to get through, if he really wants any of these jobs, but once he gets them, Mickey’s going to have to warm up to his employees at some point. Ian didn’t want Mickey to keep hiding things from people, and Mickey’s starting to realize why. Some of these people, Mickey will be working with them until he retires, so he’ll have to put up with them at some point. “Plus, we would make a very cute couple there, Mick. Don’t you think? Just think about it.”

“I guess.” Ian nodded, keeping his eyes on the road until he reached the red light up ahead. “But you’re not throwing my shit out, you hear me?” Ian turned his head to take in the defensive look on Mickey’s face. “Don’t go in there and touch my shit, Ian. I mean it.”

“I promise, Mickey. I'm not gonna touch it. I won’t,” Ian answered as sincerely as possible. After a couple of seconds of silence, Ian added. “Fuckin’ redhead.”

Mickey’s eyebrows inched on his forehead as he whirled his head around towards Ian. “So you suddenly get free reign to call me a fuckin’ redhead?”

Ian shrugged. “If the comb fits…”

“Fuck you,” Mickey laughed at Ian’s joke, and the other redhead joined along. Once the light turned green, Ian drove the car down the road and towards the expressway in the direction back home.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I think I'm gonna start taking more prompts now. I announced it on my Tumblr already, but I wanted to let you all know in the author's note of this story, too. If you have any fall/Halloween/Thanksgiving prompts you want me to write, send them to my inbox (the link is in My Ask Box Corner series description).
> 
> I hope you liked this story as well (to the anon who sent it, it might be a little different than what you requested, but I tried), and happy reading. <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [That's My Fucking Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734784) by [Mrs_Monaghan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Monaghan/pseuds/Mrs_Monaghan)




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